


An Unsuitable Woman

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Justified
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The FBI is trampling all over what appears at first glance to be a simple case. When Tim Gutterson goes undercover things start to get a lot more complicated. Tim meets the girl of his dreams, but what is she in the case, and why is Art acting so strange? It's up to Tim, Raylan and Rachel to sort through the clues and the mess and try and figure out what is up with their Chief before it's too late.</p><p>Suddenly Harlan explodes, and Art's case may be linked to something that happened way back before Raylan even left Harlan.</p><p>Running out of time and options, it becomes clear that hate is the fuel on the fire, but what is the secret that fuels the hate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out of the Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thornfield_girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornfield_girl/gifts).



It was Adele’s perfume that Tim recognized at first as he was waking up, and making sure that everything was still attached, and functional, even if it was extremely painful. Her perfume was a subtle and slightly old-fashioned scent. Until now, Tim had associated that scent with his maternal grandmother, but that was B.A. Before Adele. He was learning to associate things into two different groups. B.A. and A.A. After Adele.

A.A. things were crazy and chaotic and he was pretty certain that he was lying in the hospital bed largely due to a series of unfortunate events in which she was directly, indirectly or barely even tangentially involved.

What was unwaveringly certain, beyond any reasonable shadow of a doubt, was that without Adele, he, Raylan, Art and probably even Rachel would now be dead. Not to mention a large number of mostly blameless citizens of Harlan.

None of this crazy mess was Adele’s fault.

Zoe Kenneth was dead.

At least, he hoped Zoe Kenneth was dead. He had shot her through the right eye with Adele’s antique Remington 95 derringer. It was the only way to save his and Raylan’s lives, but even that was touch and go. At that point the house was well and truly ablaze, and there was only one way out. The certain death kind of way out in which he and Raylan had an unenviable choice, they either burned or leapt to their deaths.

Except for the tree.

And the branch.

He was pretty sure that the branch accounted for the firm pressure of bandages running around his body from mid chest to just above his waist. He was pretty sure that Raylan had the cracked ribs too, from the encounter with the branch. They had run across the roof, and taken a flying leap out into the void, slamming hard into the branch.

Adele had very thoughtfully adjusted the bed so that he could see his partner without moving. Raylan looked like Tim felt. They both had the cracked ribs. Raylan also had the broken left wrist, the minor burns on the backs of his hands and his right forearm, duly dressed, and a body like Tim’s all over cuts, bruises and other damage from hitting that branch like a bomb hitting a corrugated iron factory, the branch not welcoming his and Raylan’s weight, and breaking off, dumping them on the ground some nine or ten feet below, but not before they struck several smaller branches on the way down. Tim had the broken nose, the sprained right ankle and the minor burn on his right thigh from the fire. And naturally, they were both coughing their lungs up from the smoke inhalation.

Lying on the ground, in agony, knowing that they were both looking at a lengthy hospital stay… but that they were alive against some pretty lousy odds, laughter had taken over. His beautiful Adele bent over him, holding his hand, whispering soothing things in her cute sexy voice, until he mercifully passed out again.

In between the sirens, and the ambulance, and Adele’s timely arrival, and Rachel’s fierce organizational skills which got them a nice private room before the doctors had even finished patching them up, Adele had actually explained the entire mess to AUSA David Vasquez’ bewildered satisfaction.

It turned out that Tim’s beautiful French-Candienne princess was a sergeant in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, and that her uncle was something rather high up in the FBI, and at that point it became too complex for Tim to hold in his head.

Sergeant Adele Fournier of the RCMP had indubitably got her man. Tim loved being got. Every inch of his psyche wanted to drag her off to his lair, and do sweet and wicked things to her until they were both too tired to move a muscle.

In Tim’s case, the spirit was more than willing, but the flesh was far too battered and broken to even plan such matters.

But she was there, she was by his side, and now that he could actually think again, all he had to do was dream up the right argument to get her to stay. Forever seemed a reasonable length of time.

[][][][][][][][]

Art finished up with Vasquez and headed back down the corridor to his two deputies. He was exhausted, and possibly not thinking all that clearly. The case had drained the life out of him and he had never been so terrified as in the moment that he realised the house was ablaze from end to end, and Tim and Raylan were still inside.

Then somehow they were out on the roof, making an impossible jump from the roof to the branch of the tree, and then they were falling, and somehow they weren’t dead, and Art wasn’t even going to pretend to be surprised or angry with Rachel as she flew to Raylan’s side and Adele was there with Tim.

Their fugitive was dead, but his boys were alive and he couldn’t have been happier about it.

What Art couldn’t believe was how they had come to this.

[][][][][][][][]

Raylan Givens had been hurt a time or two in the line of duty, but this was different. He ached all over. He didn’t care how minor the burns were, the backs of his hands and his right forearm stung like the devil. His chest felt as though an elephant in hobnail boots had been jumping on it, and he could barely feel the fingers of his left hand.

Raylan ignored the pain. He was trying to pick his way through the potential minefield. His growing relationship with Rachel. She was right there in the hard plastic chair next to his bed. There for him. And Raylan was doing his best to figure it out.

Even he knew that he sucked at relationships. They all left him in the end. Even when he was trying to be what they wanted him to be. He really wanted this to work out. He respected Rachel, she had stones, she bossed him around, she was smart and sassy and unafraid, and he figured that this was what he wanted her to be.

She challenged him, and Raylan actually loved that.

The L-word. He actually said the L-word. Okay, it was in his head, but it was still the L-word. Winona had pulled him up on that. Saying it wasn’t good enough. Using it as a weapon, well that was out, meaning it was the thing.

The truth was that Raylan had a very limited nodding acquaintance with love. If he stopped to examine the situation, Raylan Givens was in very unfamiliar territory. He finally got why Winona had left, and she was still part of his life, and their daughter, but this… this was new and different and he was terrified he as going to mess it up.

She was dozing in the chair, head resting against the side of the bed. If he could have summoned up the strength to roll over just a little, he could have kissed her on the forehead, but that wasn’t going to happen. He needed something else.

He glanced across at Tim and his lady. Adele had pushed the cot provided by the hospital flat up against the other side of Tim’s bed, they were side by side, their hands entwined. Holding on to each other. To Raylan it looked like a promise.

Rachel’s slim, delicate hand was under his relatively undamaged right hand. Gauze covered the burn on the back of his hand, minor but it hurt like the devil, very slowly he crooked his stiff, swollen fingers to get a grip on her hand.

[][][][][][][][]

Rachel felt Raylan’s fingers move, at first she thought he was moving away, then she realised that he was trying to hold her hand. His fingers were sore and swollen, it must have really hurt to move them and this was the least sentimental man she had ever met, but he was trying to reach out to her.

She had his horseshoe ring in her pocket, as they waited for the ambulance, and Rachel sat on the ground with Raylan she had seen that his fingers were starting to swell, so she had pulled his ring off gently before they had to cut it off. The weight of it felt reassuring and she realised that this was how Raylan himself made her feel. Reassured.

Of course that didn’t mean that most of the time she didn’t know whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him. And sometimes she wasn’t at all sure whose side he was really on. And that his daddy issues, and Boyd Crowder issues which seemed to be all mixed up together, weren’t just plain weird as well as extremely fucked up.

She shifted her hand so that he could hold it more easily, looked up and he was watching her. “Hey.” She said. He smiled. She couldn’t help it, Raylan’s trademark sheepish grin was all part of the Southern charm, and she found herself charmed by it even when she didn’t intend to be.

“Hey.” He whispered and settled again. She smiled at him fondly. She was done with the effort to hold him at arm’s length.


	2. Light the blue touch paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins. Tim is sent undercover, and finds more than he bargains for.

_Three Weeks Earlier_

Deputy US Marshal Tim Gutterson was in a foul mood. The FBI had swept in on their doorstep with some bullshit or other about a shared case, and needing someone to go undercover… and Tim had drawn the short straw because it needed to be a guy, and apparently all the world knew Raylan and Nelson was too old, and the other guys in the office weren’t suitable and only Tim would do. Art volunteered his services.

Tim had gone for the orientation meeting, and realised that Art’s understanding of what Tim would be required to do was somewhat imperfect.

He wasn’t waiting tables. He was supposed to be the table.

And Tim was not down with an undercover assignment that required him to lose all his body hair from the neck down, and lie flat on his back while people ate their sushi and sashimi off his mostly naked body. He just had little choice in the matter.

Three hours and an excruciating appointment at a beauty parlour later, and Tim was ready to shoot the first person who crossed his path. He stalked back to the office to give his report.

The conference room was full. Fibbies, Raylan, Rachel, Nelson and Art. All watching him expectantly. Dammit.

He made his report, trying to make it as dull as possible. Perhaps he could bore them all into submission, because he was not looking forward to the explanation of what he would be doing while they were outside in the van listening in.

He started to explain, mostly because they were going to have to re-think the wire he was wearing. There was complete silence, Art and the senior Fibbie, whose name Tim hadn’t bothered to learn, were staring at him.

Into the silence dropped a tiny, quiet, bat-like squeak. Tim shot a furious look at his co-workers. Rachel’s eyes were on her note pad, Nelson was staring off into space, eyes wide, face a mask and jaw clenched so tight Tim could hear his teeth grinding. Raylan’s head was down, the brim of his infamous hat shielding his face from Tim’s angry gaze. Tim scowled and started to continue, another tiny squeak, Raylan’s whole body quivered, and the lanky marshal held up a hand, one finger extended skywards. Rachel’s eyes rolled sideways and her lips twitched.

Nelson broke.

And that was it. Rachel and Raylan were quivering with the effort not to break down, but Nelson and the two junior Fibbies were in hysterics. Even Art and Fibbie Senior were laughing.

Tim folded his arms and glared. Trying not to mind too much about the sticky residue from the wax that reminded him exactly where his arm hair had gone.

“Ha… ha…” If this mess wasn’t serious, Tim would probably find it funny too. But he hadn’t survived deployment in Afghanistan to ignore his gut instincts now. He knew his gut was right. There was a hell of a lot more to this than met the eye.

Since it was his neck on the line, now was the time to yank this back on track.

“The wire is out. I need a bug that’s small enough to slip under a table edge or something.” He leaned back against the wall, forced himself to relax. As though he hadn’t a care in the world.

[][][][][][][][]

The bug was tiny, the FBI had come through, Tim just hoped that the equipment was up to the task.

He made his way back to the restaurant a few minutes early. Never hurt to suggest a little enthusiasm, and it gave him a little extra time to plant the bug.

The locker room was empty when he entered, although he could hear someone in the showers. He would have to move fast then. He did a quick check to make sure no one would catch him and slipped into the private dining area he had been shown earlier.

The bug was an easy plant under the edge of the slightly raised seating, where no one would find it. Feeling a little more confident he turned to go when the thought occurred to him. The bench he was supposed to lie on was wide enough for two.

Well if he hung around brooding about it, someone might start asking questions. With a final glance to check that the bug was properly hidden, Tim slipped out and made his way to the locker he had been given earlier.

He rounded the bank of lockers and stopped. Someone was in the locker next to his. He could see the back, part of a long shapely leg, and a wrapped towel that said the person was female. He was just about to announce his presence when the locker door shut.

He opened his mouth to introduce himself, and the words just dried in his throat. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life before.

“ze barracudas will eat you alive.” Tim was vaguely aware that she was speaking, that she had this cute little accent which he couldn’t quite place, as this grin spread itself across his features. He was even aware that this grin did not speak highly for his intellect but somehow he couldn’t help himself.

The girl, who he judged to be roughly his own age, didn’t even seem to notice. “Adele Fournier.” She stretched out her hand, and Tim took it, found his voice hiding somewhere behind his libido, “Tim Gutterson.” He gently raised her hand, bent and kissed it, all the while wondering where the hell that had come from because he had never done that in his life before.

Adele smiled, fondly, even a bit indulgently, and Tim was sure he could hear his heart beating double time.

“Barracudas?” As questions went it had the dignity of positive imbecility, but this sweet beautiful, glorious girl seemed determined not to notice that Tim’s IQ had dropped off about thirty points.

“Ze reason ze last Adam left.” Adele smiled. “Ze women zat hire ze private dining experience. Zey are like animals.” Something hardened in her eyes for a moment. “We work together. You have done zis before, no?”

Tim shook his head.

“Do as I do, and stay wiz me, do not let zem try to get you alone.”

She looked him up and down, and reached into her locker. “Zis should fit,” she handed him a soft robe, dark grey in colour, “we are ze same size, and zis is ze real zing, better zan ze cheap, nasty ones zat zey provide.”

Tim thought he could sit and listen to Adele read from the telephone directory. In a daze he reached into his locker, putting his jacket away.

Adele dropped her towel on the bench, and reached into her locker for a robe.

Tim swallowed. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. Long limbs, creamy skin, body in lovely curvaceous proportions. He had never been shy about taking his clothes off before, but in the face of that perfection, he suddenly felt a little awkward.

She seemed to recognize the problem as he dithered, she reached out a hand, patted him gently on the cheek, and leaned in to kiss him on the other cheek. “You will be fine. I can tell.” 

_Oh god, she isn’t just beautiful, and perfect, she’s sweet and kind too_. He had never really had a check list of characteristics that he thought about when considering the perfect girl, but if he had, Adele would definitely be ticking all his boxes. For a second, the thought of the ruse and how he was lying to her right then and there bothered him.

She was sitting on the bench, bent over, brushing her long brown hair. It was a glossy, dark chestnut, and he had a mental vision of her hair spread out on the pillow as he hovered above her.

Dammit. He pulled himself together. He had a job to do, and perhaps when all this was over, Adele would see that he wasn’t lying to her out of choice. There was a definite connection between them. He could feel it.

He took the towel and headed for the shower.

[][][][][][][][]

It was just a job, Adele told herself. She was there to do a job, _and then this guy walks in and suddenly her brains have gone to mush_. Tim Gutterson, well her boss had warned that they were sending someone in from the official investigation, only he hadn’t warned her about Tim.

 _Oh god, he’s perfect_. Cute, slightly bashful smile, beautiful expressive blue eyes, and he was charming, kissing her hand made her want to blush and giggle like a child! He had done that on impulse, not the practiced ease of the womanizer.

Damn… damn… damn.


	3. Priming the Plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raylan and Rachel on stake out, Tim experiences his first time as a table... and bonds with Adele.

Two days. And all Raylan had seen was the inside of his crummy apartment, and the inside of the surveillance van. Which was crummy enough in itself since Nelson and his partner Michaels, one of the junior Fibbies, were basically slobs.

For Raylan, who was no neatnik, to call Nelson and Michaels slobs, it had to be pretty bad. And he found himself irritated by it. Rachel was infuriated by the state of the van, and from the glint in her eye there were going to be fireworks.

He found himself fascinated by that thought. That this petite lady-like woman could exert killer force and barely move a muscle. Watching Rachel in action was poetry in motion.

Since he had to sit in the cramped dark little space watching the feed from the cameras outside, and listening to the feed from Tim’s bug, he began to try and get some order into the chaos.

He was just picking the abandoned takeout boxes off the floor, when the door opened. Rachel, carrying a takeout tray with two coffees, and a mysterious bag which Raylan rather hoped contained something sugary and indulgent.

“Dammit. Nelson!” Rachel was frowning. “This is digusting!” She set the tray down. Twitched the black refuse sack from Raylan’s unresisting fingers and began stuffing boxes and cartons, and cups in with a speed and efficiency that spoke of a fitting revenge.

Raylan eyed the neat tray, and the bag. She didn’t pause in her irritated yet efficient movements. “Yours has your name on it, just the way you like it, and there’s a little something in the bag too.”

Raylan smiled, his aw shucks grin, the one that was full of unconscious charm and perhaps a little slyness, and Rachel’s lips twitched. Raylan piqued a lot of different emotions in her. He charmed people, a lot of the time he was completely unaware of just how much charm he exerted. Not that Raylan was an idiot, it was just that the anger that drove him virtually blinded him to the sense of his own attractiveness.

He was a good-looking white guy with a shitload of swagger, and she knew that, but there was more to Raylan than surface charm, and skin-deep beauty. He had an instinct, and a tenderness for the oppressed and truly misfortunate, and an almost crusading loathing for criminals. Criminals getting away with things fuelled his anger in ways that made him lose his inhibitions.

Justified was the word that Raylan lived by.

And JUSTIFIED would cover what she planned to do to Dunlop and Michaels. Dammit. She doubted they pulled this crap at home.

[][][][][][][][]

Tim was eternally grateful that he had Adele to be there with him. He followed her lead, and their first customers were a nice group. But it didn’t stay that way for long.

By the third sitting, he knew he had something to fear. The totally unaccustomed and slightly unpleasant sensation of having soy sauce and wasabi poured into his navel was just the beginning. The crowd were older, women in their mid-late forties, and from the comments he was getting and the touching, he had the feeling that they had spent some time at the bar beforehand.

Adele’s pinky finger was wrapped around his, and she squeezed from time to time. He squeezed back, sensing that she was getting the creepy treatment too, even though the comments were less obvious.

Their obvious leader was a sharply attractive woman in her mid-forties called Lara Crandall. She eyed Tim up and down and then placed herself near the middle. Tim had to force himself to stay still when she placed her hand on his naked thigh, perilously close to the banana leaf that was his only covering.

He moved his hand then, taking hold of Adele’s hand, she turned hers over and their fingers entwined, and the strength of Adele’s grasp on his hand was a wholly possessive gesture.

He detached from the unpleasant sensation of being handled like a piece of meat, and willed his whole concentration on Adele’s hand holding his. Adele’s pinky stroking his hand in a soothing motion. It occurred to Tim that this was moving fast, but being naked in front of each other five minutes after meeting removed most of the barriers, and Tim didn’t waste any time.

He learnt that she was French-Canadian, that her mother was American and she had an uncle in Washington. She had two younger brothers, he had a brother and a sister, both older, her parents were amazing, and his mother drank too much. She had a really pretty smile, and there was a warmth and tenderness in her soul that made him feel different to how he had felt with previous girlfriends. 

She learnt that he had been through a lot in his young life. The scars on his body, the sniper tattoo on the inside of his right arm and the haunted look in his beautiful blue eyes told their own tales of a hard beginning. Those things made her feel empathy. It was his sweet, odd responses to things, the way he would try and make her laugh, the southern drawl that was part nature, part devilish charm that was breaking down her defenses.

Making it through their final gig for the night was all that was really on her mind just then, she held on to Tim’s hand, as less welcome hands wandered over her skin.

Tim closed his eyes. Used his sniper training to detach his mind, just being grateful that it was almost over. He stiffened slightly as Lara Crandall trailed a piece of sushi up his body. There was something about her that goosed Tim’s neck hair, but she wasn’t the target.

Her tongue stroked his side, and she licked a path to his navel. Tim fought the urge to squirm.

But it was the last piece of sushi, and dinner was over, the party were already making noises about moving back to the bar. They started to get up to leave. Tim chanced a peek, he had closed his eyes when things started getting really uncomfortable, and Lara Crandall was staring at him.

There was something in the look in her eyes that made him feel very uneasy, but then she turned away and followed her friends and the impression was lost.

Then Adele was urging him to his feet. Tim stood. They were naked, sticky from sushi and condiments, Tim glanced down at their still clasped hands and came to an instant decision.

He tugged her closer, and Adele went very willingly. They were nose to nose, “hello” Tim whispered, and she smiled, and tilted her head. The kiss was long and slow and sensuous and full of promise.

The shower was built for one, or two if the two were very intimate. Bodies slick with soap tangled beneath the fall of water as Tim lifted her in his arms, and Adele wrapped her legs around his hips.

[][][][][][][][]

Raylan slumped forward, rested his head on his folded arms and squinted at the screen, it was late and things were folding up for the night. The camera on the back entrance to the restaurant, most of the staff had gone and they were waiting for Tim to appear before they called it a night.

“C’mon Tim.” Raylan muttered, willing the door to open and his friend to step out. Something had been churning in his mind and goosing his neck hair ever since he’d listened in to the last sitting. The lascivious comments directed at Tim made both Raylan and Rachel wince. Teasing Tim when they knew him and worked with him, well that was one thing, but the comments that they picked up were well out of order. Tim had told them that he was working with someone, and even though he would never admit it, Raylan was relieved his friend had some close at hand support. 

“Relax,” Rachel patted his arm, Raylan tried not to feel the little skip in his soul at the soft touch of her fingers, “he’ll be here.”

Raylan made a non-committal noise. Something wasn’t right and he knew it. But since everyone made fun of his neck hair, he decided to play it on the down low for a change. The threat didn’t seem imminent.

Then the back door opened, and Raylan revised his estimate of doom.

They were hand in hand, the camera was far higher quality than the CCTV version on the back of the building, and even from the distance, Raylan could see the moonstruck look on Tim’s face. 

Looking at the girl that Tim was holding hands with, Raylan could scarcely blame him.

“Uh-oh.”

“Y’think.” Raylan sighed.

“I think that there is a distinct possibility that young Tim doesn’t have his eye on the ball.” Rachel muttered.

They watched the couple walk slowly over to her car. Watched as they flowed into each other’s arms for a goodnight kiss that Raylan was certain was illegal in at least five states. Watched them reluctantly part, Tim hold the door open for the girl, she slipped into the driver’s seat, they kissed again through the open window…. Then Tim watched her as she drove away.

“Uh-oh.”

The pole-axed look on Tim’s face said it all. Loud and clear.

“He’s got one more night for certain, Raylan.” Rachel being the voice of reason, “Tim’s a professional.”

“We know that,” Raylan agreed, “but look at him.” He didn’t really know why he was laboring the point, Tim was an adult, they had a job to do, and Tim would never fail to come through. He didn’t miss.

_But he’s never had a reason to miss before._

Raylan shut up. His own track record wasn’t exactly exemplary, he could hardly fault Tim’s apparent interest in this girl. But he made a mental note to find out everything there was to know about her before tomorrow night


	4. Missing in Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim falls prey to a dangerous woman, and Adele 'enlists' Raylan's help in getting her man back.

_Shit._

He was naked, freezing cold, stiff and sore. Lying face down on a grubby, seedy motel bathroom floor, bound and gagged and wishing like hell he had paid attention to his girlfriend’s funny feeling.

Perhaps he was a little premature in calling Adele his girlfriend, but dammit that’s the way he felt. He had never fallen so hard and so fast for anyone in his life before. They fit.

Tim shivered with the strain of having his hands cuffed behind his back, and tried for the tenth time to ease his aching jaw. The last of his discomforts the chain wrapped around his ankles; that was also padlocked to the down pipe behind the toilet. 

He struggled a little while longer. Not that it made the slightest difference. Short of complete dislocation of both shoulders he wasn’t getting his hands in front of him anytime soon. He relaxed as far as he was able, wishing like hell for at least the fiftieth time he had obeyed Adele’s instincts.

The moment the target, Amanda Wilson, appeared at the restaurant the FBI had charged in like the Keystone Cops. It was a farce.

Tim had to hang on to his composure as Michaels and Nelson came charging through the door. Tim and Adele were naked, sticky from sushi and sauce, and she had hold of his hand. Tight. And all Dunlop could do was stare bug-eyed at them.

Michaels scooped up Amanda Wilson who was loudly protesting her innocence. Adele turned to Tim, “Stay wiz me.” She was practically begging him. Tim couldn’t understand why she suddenly looked scared but moved to reassure her.

“Tim…”

“Baby, I’ll just put my clothes on.”

She fisted both hands in his robe, “stay wiz me, Cheri…” she kissed him gently, “please.”

“I’m just goin’ to the locker.”

“Cheri, I have ze bad feeling.” He wanted to take her with him, but the senior Fibbie and Art came through the door, and made a beeline for them. Tim tried to protest, but stark-naked under a robe was not going to show the right emphasis. Satisfied that his love was more than holding her own, he slipped off to get dressed.

He pulled his locker door open, stripping off the robe as he did. There was movement in his peripheral vision and he half-turned, a stabbing pain in his shoulder and he glanced down. His brain registered the hypodermic first, and then the smirking face of Lara Crandell, before his vision blurred and his legs folded up and he fell.

Next thing he knew he was facedown on a grubby lino floor, trussed up like a thanksgiving turkey, staring at cheap porcelain fixtures and wishing that he had heeded his girlfriend’s sage advice.

It occurred to him that it was Adele that he assumed would rescue him. No idea why he thought like that… _Adele… help me!_

[][][][][][][][]

Adele Fournier sat in the conference room and listened, her cuffed hands resting on the table. She really didn’t have time for this, she was certain that Lara Crandall had her Tim, and the time the FBI were wasting would be put to better use.

By the time Tim had been gone for ten minutes, Adele knew that something had happened to him, her objective was a watching brief, but this was Tim, to hell wiz ze instructions. Of course the Fibbies were convinced that she had something to do with it, and the junior guy, Michaels she thought she heard the marshal call him stepped forward to snap the cuffs on. But the lanky cowboy got there before him.

He grabbed her wrists and snapped the cuffs on firmly, she could see the tension and fear in his expression, and knew he was worried for Tim. Even though he was worried, and obviously angry because he thought she was responsible in some way for Tim’s disappearance, he wasn’t rough with her.

Adele forgave him. He couldn’t know the truth, and he was upset about his friend. His anxiety and tension seemed to ratchet up in the office, he got in his boss’ face. Adele strained to hear the details of the hissed argument, anything that she could pick up might help her find Tim.

Well this was all very nice and completely useless, she had to get out of there and find Tim. His cowboy friend Raylan, although he didn’t yet know it, was going to be her passage out. Adele had helped herself to a couple of paperclips on the way in, Raylan didn’t notice, he was too angry and upset. He virtually dumped her into the chair she was sitting in. Since then she had been left to stew while Fibbies and Marshals prowled around like jungle cats. So she used her time wisely, the cuffs were simple to undo, and she had undone them.

Their major mistake was to assume that a naked woman covered in only a light kimono was without resources. No one had searched her. Which was going to play in her favour.

She studied Tim’s friend Raylan carefully. He was lean and fit, and likely a fighter, but she figured that she could take him without hurting herself or him too much. Then all she had to do was get out of the building, and convince her likely very angry hostage that she wanted Tim back badly enough to ask for his help in finding her lover.

A piece of cake!

Then they would be on their way, with her teeth intact. Or so the plan went.

She timed her move perfectly, spinning out of the chair and grabbing him from behind as he stalked past her, his movements angry and stiff with the need to be acting on his impulses. Damn but he was strong, and fit, knew nearly as many tricks as she did, she jabbed upwards fiercely with the 95. It was tiny, but she felt rather than heard the grunt of pain she caused.

He stopped struggling.

Shit. She really didn’t want to hurt him, but when his Chief asked him if he was okay, his voice sounded gravelly to her ears, chances were that she had hurt his throat.

Maybe she was really trying to reassure him, as she spoke to his boss. “We cannot wait any longer, while you are wasting time, she has my Tim.” Raylan was relaxing in her arms, not that she was about to trust that, he had proved himself sneaky during their little battle for dominance just now, and she had a job to do.  
“We are leaving now. I swear I will not harm him if you just let us go.”

She moved calmly and fairly swiftly backwards, clamped close against Raylan’s back. She could feel his seething anger, and knew she was going to have to move very fast to subdue him, but they were letting her go, which said that the Marshals had a trick up their sleeve.

That was okay. She dragged him into the elevator.

She pressed the button for the garage level and damn he was fast and sneaky, and someone had taught him well, and he had obviously honed his instincts and skills many times since then… but so had she.

“Give it up marshal.” They stood a foot apart.

“How about you put the gun down.”

“No… Marshal, if I do that, we lose our chance to save my Tim.” She was trying to be professional, after all that was what had brought her to this place, but she could not keep the hitch out of her voice, or the tremble in her lower lip.

She watched his eyes soften, and his hands move lower, still well out to the sides of his body. He was trying to reassure her, and that was too much.

She sniffed. And the dam broke.

Whatever the hell Raylan had expected when he was grabbed from behind by Tim’s girl, it wasn’t this.

She was tough, strong, graceful and well-trained. And he would bet his life that her training came from the same side of the law as his. In fact that was exactly what he was doing. Gambling his life that this girl was on the level, that her interest in Tim was exactly that. Interest. Romantic interest.

That her actions were as big a gamble as his own.

“It does not have to go like this.” Her big brown eyes were filling with tears. “Please. Ma’am.” He tried to keep his voice soft. “I know you don’t mean Tim any harm.”

The only thing that truly terrified Raylan Givens was the deep mine. But crying women were definitely on the spectrum of take evasive action. Especially tall, brunette, partially naked women who were in love with his missing partner.

The words Tim and harm acted like dynamite, blowing the dam to smithereens. Those big brown eyes filled, and there was a lower lip tremble, a sob, and she launched herself into Raylan’s bemused arms.

The gun had disappeared somewhere. He checked. But not too closely. Law enforcement he may have been, groper of distraught women who were in love with his missing partner. Uh-uh.

Regardless of what she might have done to him, Raylan was not an idiot. Tim might be three inches shorter, and kinda skinny, but the broad shoulders, and powerfully muscled arms which were often clearly on display said fighter, even if his Army Ranger status and sniper skills had not already raised a red flag. And Tim was his friend. Raylan was not so rich in friends that he could want to lose one.

His shirt was getting soaked. But Raylan wrapped his arms around her and tried to make encouraging noises.

He was going to help her. It was going to get him into trouble. But, this was Tim. This girl clearly had deep feelings for Tim, and Raylan himself had seen how Tim was with her.

Damn if he wasn’t just an old romantic at heart.

Raylan sighed.

The elevator dinged and came to a stop. They had reached the parking level.

Raylan knew that part of the reason that Art had let them go was lo-jack on his town car. It left him a dilemma. They would likely need back up, but Raylan needed enough space to let Adele slip through his fingers too, once they had found Tim.

Fortunately, Tim’s Yukon had lo-jack too, and he knew where Tim’s spare key was.


End file.
